Never trust a ginger. Red heads are duplicitous and allies of Satan. Their freckles and hair color are unnatural so therefore should be feared. The same rules apply for drinks. Drinks should be clear, dark red or brown. But that scary cherry red from grenadine is the stuff of nightmares, or childhood innocence. That’s why I ordered a Shirley Temple at the bar. I wasn’t planning to get hammered or molested by a crazy redhead. She just managed to get me to drink 6 Shirley Temples before I realized there was enough vodka in them to kill a rhino. Before I could scream for help, the girl with the red ringlets in her hair had me in her apartment dressed me up in a sailor suit. I thought it was some nightmare caused by snacking too close to bedtime. But that was before I saw the YouTube clip of us singing a duet of “The Good Ship Lollypop”. For the record, I did not have sexual relations with that candy. But I did with the ginger hussy. The Slutty Temple made me do it!.

Step 1
First put ice in a glass and then pour the vodka and 7-Up in. Add a splash of grenadine so the drink gets red, squeeze a lime wedge and drop it the glass. Stir it all up and serve you innocent, you.

Have you ever found yourself without inspiration on what sort of vittles to bring to a party? Ever been scrambling to figure out a classy snack to serve your date with a great bottle of red? Bruschetta to the rescue! It’s light, tasty and goddamn refreshing. Did I mention how simple it is to prepare? You could whip up a batch with your eyes wide shut leaving you plenty of time to tame those clothes your date is still wearing. Be sure to remind them that bruschetta is part of the Mediterranean diet. Be sure to emphasize that you are looking out for their health. The fact the artichoke is a turbo-charged APHRODISIAC is beside the point. Just go with it when they pounce on you and making a disappearing act of your pants. Abra-bang-dabra!

Step 1
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Slice the nubs off the baguette, and then cut ½ inch slices at a diagonal to make more room for fixings. Place the slices on a baking sheet and toast through in the oven until they brown slightly (approx 10 min).
Step 2
Mix together the tomato, artichoke, red onion, basil, garlic, pepper, salt, olive oil and vinegar in a bowl.
Step 3
Scoop a tablespoon of bruschetta fixings onto each toasted bread slice. Sprinkle a little grated Parmesan on top of each and serve with a bottle of wine.

Yowch! Sorry about that. I thought I was pinching someone else’s ass. But it felt so right to have my thumb and index finger sampling your goods. Not bad at all. Now that we’ve gotten past the whole digital sexual harassment woes, you hungry? Figured the drooling, stomach growling and eye fucking my food had to mean something. This spoiling eggplant came through in a pinch. While I recommend cooking with fresh ingredients, we gotta make do in this flaccid economy. Hence, we cook your meals at home and reap the randy rewards. Once roasted, this reborn eggplant brought joy to two very hungry, horny people. Both of our tushes were pinched, spanked and a few things you don’t want to know about.

Total time: approximately 45 minutes

Projected cost: $5

Drinking Buddy: Crisp white wine

Ingredients (serves 2):

1. 1 dash cumin

2. 1 dash salt

3. 1 dash black pepper

4. 1 tbsp olive oil

5. 2 tbsp tahini (sesame paste)

6. 1 large eggplant

7. 2-3 pitas

8. ½ lemon juice

9. 1 handful parsley chopped

10. 2 garlic cloves chopped finely

11. 1 handful de-pitted kalamata olives

Step 1

Preheat oven to 350°F/175°C. Poke eggplant with a fork like a prison-shivving. Throw the abused eggplant into the oven and cook until it softens (approx 30 min). Let the eggplant cool down, then split and scoop out the meat.

Some of my best friends are peeping toms. Society tells these voyeurs to be ashamed. But I ask you, how different is it to watch someone in person then watching asinine strangers in a reality show? Once you get used to hand prints left from peering into your window and your flowerbed continually being crushed, it’s really not so bad. Voyeurs are essentially pleasure-delayers. I personally subscribe to the hedonist school and want it all a week ago. But I respect their patience. This soup is like that. Roasting takes a dedication. Are you up for the task of slow-cooking a perfect soup so that you won’t have to “take it slow” later? I hope so because sometimes, every once in a while, I mean a long while, it is totally worth it to hold it back. Like an orgasm you manage to stretch out an extra 5 seconds by grunting. “Oh yeah! That’s it. Here we go. Unnnnggggghhhh!”

Step 1
Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F. Wash the red peppers and tomatoes, dry them off, and place them all into a large glass or metal oven-safe bowl. Roast them until the skin blacks and separates from the veggie meat (approx 45 minutes). Remove the tomato and peppers from the bowl and place them in a plastic bag that you will seal and leave in the fridge to cool (approx 20 minutes). Take the bag out of the fridge and dump the contents, leaked juice included, back into the roasting bowl. Slowly remove the skin from the peppers and tomatoes. Finally pull out the stalks and chop it all up coarsely and set aside.
Step 2
Heat up the olive oil in a stockpot on medium heat. Toss in the garlic and cook until it whitens (approx 30 seconds), then follow up with the onions that you will cook until they become translucent (approx 2 minutes). Flavor it all up with the salt, cayenne pepper and bay leaves before mixing in the roasted peppers and tomatoes.
Step 3
Dump in the vegetable stock and bring to a roaring boil on high heat, then turn the heat down low and simmer with a lid on until the veggies soften (approx 20 minutes). Puree the soup up using a Cuisinart, blender or hand blender (as pictured) and serve with a feeling of accomplishment. You’re terrific.

Winter vegetables are way kinkier than anyone credits them for. It’s sort of like the meek librarian who sluts it up in Vegas or the mild-mannered accountant that spends his lunch hour at a dominatrix dungeon. There’s always something sinful underneath the surface. Sometimes you just gotta dig a little. You dig? That is what I learned when I threw a little get together for my winter veggie friends. We all had a few drinks, noshed on some shrooms, and then played some Al Green. What happened next was straight out of a bad 70’s porno. The radish made cad remarks to the broccoli about her fine looking stalk and then broke out some aphrodisiacs they used as sex toys. Once things got saucy there was nothing I could do but grab the camera like a good porn director would. Fingers crossed that my little veggie porn wins at the 2010 AVN Awards for best Group Sex and/or Midget Felatio Film.

Step 1
First rinse the white radishes, chop up the stems, and slice radish rounds thinly. Wash the broccoli, chop the ends of the stock away so the trees break apart, and chop up the broccoli leaves if you have them.
Step 2
Heat up the sesame oil in the pan on medium heat. Saute the ginger (approx 1 min). Lay the radish evenly around the pan, adding the basil and salt, cooking until they soften (approx 3 min). Throw in the broccoli, broccoli leaves, radish stems, and mushrooms. Stir-fry away once you add the oyster sauce until the leaves wilt and broccoli softens (approx 4 min).
This stir-fry is a perfect solo act, but would do nicely with something CARBOLUSCIOUS.

“I think I’m gonna bust a nut all over this squash! Can’t hold back any more. Oh yeah, here it comes. Mmm mmm. Damn this soup hits the spot every time.” This is the typical reaction you get when you make this during wintertime. The butternut is the sexiest, tastiest, most sultry member of the squash family. It absorbs flavor like a champ and becomes velvety when cooked right. And when you roast it, good god does it drip with sex appeal. There aren’t adjectives provocative enough to sum up cooking roasted butternut squash into a soup so I’ll leave that filthy fantasy to the individual chef. This soup has gotten me through the leanest of times with some lovelies with countless requests for sequels. One ex tried to get this recipe before we broke up, but I refused so she left in a huff never to be seen again. Roxanne*, if you’re reading this, here’s the recipe finally available to any and all. Enjoy, and give your cat my best. Read the rest of this entry »

I have never quite gotten the expression, “Who’s your daddy?” This phrase is usually uttered by some machismo douche-asaurus banging some bar skank with a tramp stamp tattoo and daddy issues. I supposed that is appropriate considering she is looking for a father figure and he is fulfilling a stereotype. But think about it for a moment. Who wants to fantasize about banging a family member? Last I checked incest is lower on the evolutionary scale than bestiality. Sure I fantasize about banging someone else’s family members, but that is above the board and legal. I’m more likely to grunt in the throes of wanton lust, “Who’s your daddy’s favorite employee?” Bob, if you’re reading this, this is purely hypothetical and I did not engage in illicit fornication in your boathouse while wearing your prized captain’s hat. I also have no idea where those stains on the wall came from. But I do know where that papaya salsa that you and your delightfully innocent daughter are enjoying. Handcrafted by the same hands that help run your empire. You’re welcome. Do you mind if I borrow Rochelle for sec? I need her help tossing this salad. Read the rest of this entry »